Monday, May 6, 2013

When it comes to parenting, I’m losing. X-Man is completely
whooping me. Well, his antibiotic resistant double ear infection is certainly
helping. It’s made for some super-duper fun times as he rails against life and
the world. There’s been lots of angry screaming, throwing things and biting.
And that’s just me. I kid…..mostly.

Baby had a soccer game Friday evening. I required the father
figure to come, as I wrestled X-Man while he threw things and screeched at the
little girls who wouldn’t let him run off with their soccer ball. He resorted
to trying to bite me when I put the kibosh on his entering the field of play.
Gestated Cinco heard the racket and realized that she was missing out on some
sort of party. So there I was, wrestling a toddler, trying to get a newborn to
stop crying and being very annoyed at Mac, who had traces of blood on his hand
and therefore completely incapacitated.

I have never been
happier to see the father figure. He swooped in and took over X-Man and his
rages. Which quickly dissipated. I was focused on the girls, Baba was off at
tryouts, and the boys gravitated towards the father figure. After a little bit
I heard the father figure say “Well, he did ask him to chase him.” And my ears
perked up.

Apparently, a younger boy wanted to Mac to chase him. Well
actually, four kids walked over to where Mac was sitting, contemplating the
blood on his hand, and urged him to chase them. So Mac obliged. And then the
boy ran to his mom. Mom, being the officious woman she is, turned to Mac and
said “Don’t chase him.” Father figure to the rescue. The mom didn’t apologize
for jumping on Mac without actually having a clue, but that would have been too
much to wish for.

I was seriously irritated. A large part was due, I’m
certain, to X-Man’s antics, that had started during an even that morning,
followed into a trip to the doctor, my second in three day with all five kids,
and had deteriorated. I wanted to snark about the boy who couldn’t handle being
chased by a five year old and had to run to mommy, but then again my son had
been wailing about a minor scrape on his hand so yeah, shouldn’t really go
there.

But I did want to say, and most certainly thought, “Helicopter
parenting….you’re doing it wrong!” Now, I’m not a helicopter parent, despite
what the father figure might say. And I’m not one to jump on other people’s
children. Sure there are cases where something needs to be said, usually when
physical harm is imminent. But I dislike the hovering moms who are certain that
their little angles are all perfect and victims. Maybe it’s just my own
personality, but I’m always concerned that it’s my kid who’s responsible for
any and all chaos. I’m good with that assumption, maybe because it rarely born out
and I’m really not ok with other moms assuming anything about my kids.

It’s all ok for you to hover over your own children, but don’t
go extending their magic boundaries to my kids. And that is all. Because
apparently although I have spent the last three hours feeding Gestated Cinco,
it’s just. not. enough.